


Sweet Nothings

by Cobrilee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Keith wears panties, M/M, No Smut, Shiro bakes, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Shiro wants to show Keith how much he loves him. He wants to show Keith that he'll always go the extra mile to make him happy. A homemade cake is the best way to do that, he decides....At least he tried?





	Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tagteamme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/gifts).



> About a month or so ago, I asked tagteamme to give me a prompt for a Sheith fic because I had all the desire to write, and no ideas. She gave me, "Shiro bakes for Keith but messes up the recipe." Then I found out, like three days later, that it was her birthday.
> 
> I'm sorry this is so late, my dear, but happy belated birthday anyway!
> 
> Thanks to [rhysiana](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/) for the beta work!

“‘It’s not that hard,’ he said. ‘It’s only a few ingredients,’ he said.” Shiro looks down at the counter where nearly a dozen ingredients are spread before him. They’re all ones he’s familiar with, except one, but for someone who has never once attempted to put them all together in an edible formation, they’re daunting. 

If Hunk was really that good of a friend, he would have made the cake before he left, instead of just dropping off a recipe and all the ingredients Shiro needed to make it himself, along with a hearty slap on the back and a cheerful, “You’ll be fine, it’s easy.”

Shiro has a sneaking suspicion that Hunk lied to him.

He’s determined to do this to the best of his ability, though. It’s important to him to do something special for Keith, since this is their first romantic holiday together. He knows that Keith has never had anyone around to spoil him, to treat him well and give him little gifts and let him know he’s thought of and loved, and Shiro wants to be that person for him. He’s always wanted to be that person for him.

Looking down at the ring on his finger, he softens. He’d known for a long time that he loved Keith, but it wasn’t until Christmas that he truly understood how much Keith loved him in return.

\-----

_ “Keith… Where did you get this?” _

_ Keith gives him a rueful smile. “Your parents. After… After we heard about Kerberos, when they came to pick your things up from the Garrison. They brought it with them.” _

_ Shiro stares down at the ring that he’d long forgotten about, the one his grandfather had worn every day of his adult life. When he’d died, the ring went to Shiro’s mother for safe-keeping, until Shiro left the Garrison. He wasn’t allowed to wear jewelry as an officer, only his Garrison-issued dog tags, and there was no point in keeping it there if he couldn’t wear it. But it was his. It was always his, and it was the one memento of his grandfather's that was actually special to him. _

_ “How come you have it? Why didn’t they keep it?” _

_ Keith’s cheeks color with a light blush. “Apparently you’d talked about me to them so much they wanted me to have it. They said it was special to you, and they thought you would have wanted it to be passed on to me, since there were no other children in your family to give it to.” _

_ Shiro flushes as well, a soft pink which nicely complements Keith’s coloring. Nearly every call back home to his parents had been dominated with Keith this and Keith that. His father had said how nice it was that he’d made such a good friend, but his mother’s voice had always been more knowing. “They were right.” _

_ “It’s yours, though. Now that you’re home, it belongs with you.” _

_ “Thank you,” he murmurs, sliding the ring onto his finger and feeling something settle in his chest. They’ve been home for four months now, and this is the first time it’s felt right, like he’s where he belongs. “You could have kept it.” _

_ “No, I couldn’t have.” Keith gives him a small smile. “It was important to me before, when you were gone, because it was the only other thing I had besides your dog tags. It was the one tangible thing of yours that really mattered to you, that I could hold when I missed you the most. But now you’re back, and I don’t need it anymore.” _

_ The earnestness in his voice, the unmitigated love, is Shiro’s undoing. He has the clone’s memories of Keith saying, “I love you,” but he hasn't been able to push away the memory of “You’re my brother” coming right before it. It wasn’t the first time Keith had referred to Shiro as his brother, and he’d always believed that was exactly how Keith meant it. _

_ Looking in his eyes now and seeing the softness, the affection, the emotions brimming up from a well deep within him to spill out like starlight, Shiro knows that’s not at all how Keith meant it. _

_ “Come here,” he says softly, and Keith doesn’t hesitate. Shiro’s arm slides around Keith’s waist and his head spins dizzily when Keith’s arms go around his neck, and his lips find Shiro’s, and Shiro gets everything he wanted for Christmas. _

\-----

It’s only been two months, but they’ve been the best two months of Shiro’s life, nightmares and PTSD notwithstanding. That’s why it’s so important to him now, that he do something to show Keith how special he is, how much Shiro loves him. A cake might not be much, but the gesture will mean more to Keith than a fancy present would. 

Unfortunately, Shiro muses as he stares at the ingredients with a frown, baking is not his forte and Hunk had deftly maneuvered his way out of the house as soon as he dropped off everything Shiro would need to make it himself. Except skills. He forgot to leave baking skills.

A second hand would have helped a lot, too.

\-----

Half an hour later, Shiro is proud of himself for mostly having things under control. It wasn’t easy to open some of the containers with only one hand, but he’s gotten better at managing things like that over the past six months, so it’s only a little tricky. In order to make it the easiest on himself, he’d checked all the necessary measurements against the recipe, gotten out the appropriate measuring cups and spoons, and measured each of the ingredients out before even attempting to mix them together.

Now that he has everything out and ready, he studies the recipe. One of the few pieces of wisdom Hunk provided before he left was that the order everything was added, and the way they were blended, actually mattered. It wasn’t as simple as dumping everything in a bowl and stirring.

“So the wet ingredients go in the mixer, and the dry ones get stirred together separately,” he mutters to himself. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

The wet ingredients are not hard, as a matter of fact. Even cracking the eggs one-handed isn’t that difficult, as long as he’s careful. The dry ones, however… Shiro learns quickly that stirring with one hand when you can’t hold the bowl with the other means you end up chasing the bowl across the counter a lot.

Fortunately for him, the mice come to his aid once they realize the difficulty he’s having. They’re staying with him and Keith while Allura and Lance visit his family in Cuba, and he sometimes forgets they’re there aside from feeding time, they’re so quiet. One of them, the light blue one, makes little squeaking noises at him now, its whiskers quivering as it studies the way he holds the spoon. He’s trying to push it down into the bowl to hold it in place, but it makes it difficult to actually stir the dry ingredients together thoroughly.

It turns around to the others and seems to talk to them, and they scurry to form a barrier around the base of the bowl. Shiro cautiously starts moving the spoon around, and the bowl stays firmly in place.

“Thanks,” he tells the mice, and the blue one makes a bobbing motion with its head. Shiro tells himself the mouse is saying  _ you’re welcome. _

Once all the dry ingredients are sifted and he forms a well in the mixture, he grabs the mixing bowl with the wet ones and tips it gingerly, trying to keep a solid grip on it while also trying to get all the contents into the hole he formed in the other one. He beams once everything is poured and all he has to do is fold the dry ingredients into the wet.

The mice hold the bowl for him again, he carefully folds everything all together, and the resulting mixture looks smooth and glistening. He’d already greased the cake pan earlier, so all he has to do is pour the entire bowl into the pan and stick the pan in the oven.

The hard part is over.

\-----

Considering how much energy he spent on the cake, Shiro decides that it’s perfectly acceptable to have dinner delivered. He picks Keith’s favorite fancy-ish restaurant and schedules the delivery for six o’clock, knowing that Keith will get home around five-thirty or so, giving them a little bit of time to unwind before dinner arrives.

When Keith walks in the door fifteen minutes late, his hair is disheveled and semi-matted down from his helmet, and he’s scowling. Before Shiro can ask what’s wrong, the scowl melts away and Keith’s smiling softly, stepping immediately into Shiro’s welcoming embrace.

“Today has been utter shit,” he mumbles into Shiro’s neck, “but none of it matters now. I wish I could keep you at work with me so I could focus on you and ignore all the assholes who think they can kick my ass because they’re just that incredible.”

“That’s almost sappy, coming from you,” Shiro teases. “And I wish I could come to work with you, too, and see the looks on their faces when they realize you’re going to hand them their asses without breaking a sweat.”

“I sweat a  _ little _ ,” he returns, but he’s pulling back and smiling a bit more normally now, so Shiro counts it as a win. “What’s for dinner?”

Shiro leans in and drops a brief kiss to his mouth. “I’m having Gino’s delivered in about ten minutes.”

Keith pouts a little, and Shiro’s mystified until he says, “There isn’t enough time to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s what dinner is,” Shiro reminds him, amused. “Otherwise I would have just gotten Chinese or made chicken or something.” 

“I’ll just have to give you your present later, then.” Keith gives him a sly look but Shiro decides to ignore it for now. Keith will say more when he’s ready.

It makes him wonder, however, if what Keith has planned is more involved than the simple cake Shiro made, and he starts to worry that he didn’t do enough. This is Valentine’s Day, it’s their first real holiday together, and he should have done more. A cake. He couldn’t have gone to a little more effort than making a damn cake?

Keith sniffs. “Do I smell chocolate?”

“I made a cake.” He mutters it, suddenly embarrassed by the meager offering.

Keith lights up. “You made a cake? For me?” Long, lithe arms wrap around his neck, and Keith buries his face in it again. “I can’t believe you made me a cake.”

“It’s nothing.” His face burns. “I just thought about the fact that you probably haven’t ever had anyone take the time to make you anything, at least not since you were a kid.”

“I haven’t had a homemade cake since my dad died. No one cared enough to do something like that for me.”

And that right there reminds Shiro of why he wanted to do this. Keith doesn’t say the words with any bitterness or hurt, but the fact that it’s been nearly fifteen years since he had a homemade cake twists something in Shiro, and the embarrassment washes away. “I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you,” he says, “and how much I love you.” They’ve said the words an infinite number of times already, but somehow, they still stick in Shiro’s throat. 

“Jesus, Shiro. I already know you love me, you didn’t have to go to that much trouble.”

His voice is heartfelt when he says, “Nothing is ever too much trouble for you.” 

He feels lips press against his throat, then the tip of a tongue, and the rest of his body starts getting a lot more interested in current events. “Dinner will be here any minute. Don’t start getting ideas.”

Keith snorts as he pulls away from Shiro’s neck, licking his lips as he does. “I always have ideas when it comes to you.”

“Put them on pause, then.” He drops a kiss to Keith’s uptilted mouth, tempted to linger for a little longer, dinner be damned. And then the doorbell rings.

Keith kisses the back of his neck as Shiro opens the door to admit the Gino’s delivery driver. The kissing noises against his neck are obnoxiously loud, and Shiro gives the driver a rueful, apologetic smile for his boyfriend’s bad manners; the driver looks tired and resigned, and keeps an attempt at a smile on her face for the tip, but she’s clearly so done with Valentine’s Day and romantic couple behavior. Shiro wouldn’t blame her, except he’s part of one of those romantic couples and he loves it. 

He tips a hundred percent as an apology.

“Is that how much tip you’re going to give me?” Keith murmurs in his ear as Shiro shuts the door with his foot, laden down as he is with delivery bags.

“Not if you don’t behave,” Shiro scolds, but it’s half-hearted and tinged with amusement. He hasn’t seen Keith in this good of a mood in a long time, and he isn’t about to put a damper on that smile.

They settle in on the couch (Keith insisted he wanted to cuddle closer to Shiro rather than sit across from him at a table on hard chairs, and Shiro couldn’t imagine denying him); Shiro with a plate of pasta bolognese, and Keith with his spaghetti carbonara. It feels a little weird when Keith tucks his chin over Shiro’s shoulder despite chewing on his dinner, but Shiro wouldn’t push him away for anything.

“So tell me what happened at work today,” Shiro coaxes after a few minutes of contented eating, and Keith grumbles into his shoulder.

“We got a couple new guys in today, the big beefy asshole type. They took one look at me and started laughing, like they thought I couldn’t possibly be the combat instructor. When I put the first one down in three seconds flat, the other two started puffing up and posturing and acting like they were the world’s biggest badasses.” Keith makes a face as he scoops up another creamy bite of cheesy bacon and spaghetti. “One of them complained to Ricky when I flipped him out of the training ring, said I was cheating and clearly on steroids, despite the fact that his bicep was the size of my thigh and mine is the size of his brain.” A smirk edges at the corner of his mouth as he pushes the forkful of food into it.

Shiro can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes him. “Babe, you remember you’ve put on a lot of muscle in the last couple years, right? That isn’t quite the insult you think it is.”

Swallowing, Keith shrugs. “Ricky told them to fuck off, or he’d let me kick their asses a second time. They got heated, but when Ricky and I both put on our ‘get the fuck out right this second’ faces, they bailed.”

“My boyfriend the intimidator,” Shiro teases, nuzzling his lips into Keith’s hair, somewhere around his ear, and brushing a light kiss into it. “You have to stop scaring away your clientele, babe, or the gym is going to start losing business.”

“I doubt it. Ricky has regulars going back decades.” Keith takes the last bite of his spaghetti and puts the container down on the coffee table, patting his stomach happily and propping his feet up on the edges of the table. “This was amazing, Shiro. Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

Shiro smiles at him, fond and affectionate. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it?”

Keith winks, glancing down at Shiro’s lap. “Actually, it takes a  _ lot _ to make me happy.”

“Should I assume that your plans for this evening involve our bedroom?” he asks dryly, but his heartbeat spikes in anticipation.

“Not necessarily. The living room works for me, too,” Keith says cheekily.

Rolling his eyes, Shiro lifts himself to his feet. “Can we at least do dessert first? Otherwise I have a feeling we’ll completely forget about it.”

Nodding his assent, Keith hops up and follows Shiro into the kitchen, hooking his chin over Shiro’s shoulder when Shiro goes for the cake plate and the knife. “It looks fantastic,” he whispers into Shiro’s ear. “I can’t believe I have a boyfriend who makes me cake.”

“We have yet to see how it tastes,” Shiro reminds him wryly. 

“I’m sure it tastes fine...” Keith’s words trail off when Shiro slices into it and the contents of the perfectly beautiful outside ooze out onto the cake plate. “What did you put in this?”

Shiro pokes at a slimy-looking sac with the tip of the knife and flinches when it bursts, more slimy-looking liquid creeping out and mixing with the cake’s innards. “The usual stuff. Butter, milk, eggs. Some kind of Altean sugar Hunk brought over.”

Keith stills. “Is this Altean sugar really gritty and kind of orange-colored?”

Nodding, Shiro slices into another section of the cake to see if it survived.  _ It did not _ , he laments as the sides of the cake separate and chocolate-colored goo spills out. “Why?”

“It’s not sugar,” Keith informs him with a barely-held-back snort of laughter. “It’s their version of a laxative. When it mixes with liquid, it turns really thin and runny. It cuts through the slime of the food goo and makes it easier to, um. Pass.”

“So you’re saying the romantic cake I slaved over for half a day is going to make us…”

“Shit our brains out,” Keith supplies gleefully, finally losing control of his laughter. Shoulders shaking in mirth, he leans his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder. “Thank you for trying, Shiro, I appreciate the effort, but I’m going to have to  _ pass _ on dessert.”

Shiro stares at the cake, disappointed that his hard work yielded such inedible results. “I’m sorry, Keith. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Shiro, you  _ did _ do something nice for me,” Keith assures him, voice gentle. He pushes at Shiro’s shoulders until they’re facing each other, and he loops his arms around Shiro’s neck. “Just because we can’t eat it doesn’t mean that you didn’t take the time to think of something that would make me happy, and do your best to pull it off. The fact that you did this at all makes me just as happy as actually getting to eat it would.”

He reaches up to press his lips to Shiro’s, and Shiro lets go of his frustration. Keith is right; the intent was more important than the end result in this case, and Keith knows how much Shiro loves him. “I love you,” he murmurs against the soft press of Keith’s mouth. “More and more every day.”

“Same,” Keith whispers back. “Now come on. It’s time for me to give you your present.”

Stepping back, he doesn’t even give Shiro time to ask what it might be before he’s shimmying out of the sweat pants he wears for training classes. Shiro’s eyes fly wide open when he sees the delicate, sheer, red-and-black lace panties he’s been eyeing for weeks. “How long have you been wearing them?” he asks hoarsely, and Keith shrugs.

“Since I got dressed this morning.”

“You’ve been wearing them  _ all day _ ? Through classes? While you were wiggling your ass in my face when I was brushing my teeth? When you were trying to tease me into a quickie before you left?”

Keith nods, expression smug and satisfied. “I knew you wouldn’t give in, considering I had four classes today and couldn’t be late. But I knew what you were missing out on, and that made it worth it.”

“Fuck, Keith.” He wipes his hand over his face in disbelief. Keith had asked him, not long after they got together, if there was anything Shiro really wanted to do in the bedroom. It had taken Shiro awhile to admit that the idea of Keith in panties really turned him on. Keith had said he’d consider it, but had to think about it. “Did you finally decide you were okay with it?”

Scoffing, Keith strips himself out of his t-shirt, leaving him in only the underwear, and Shiro’s dog tags which he always wore under his shirt. Shiro’s eyes travel his body greedily, arousal flaring at the way the panties cup his full length. “I knew the second you asked that I would do it. I just wanted to save it for a special event. I figured this qualified.”

Shiro lifts his gaze up to Keith’s, gratified to see that there’s no hint of embarrassment or shyness. He’s confident in himself now, in Shiro’s love for him. “First one to the bedroom gets to peel those off of you.”

Keith pretends to run for their room, but doesn’t make any effort to keep Shiro from racing by them. Shiro grabs him by the hand and hauls him into their bed and onto his lap, nuzzling his lips against the spot on Keith’s chest where his dog tags rest. 

“Are you ever going to give these back to me?” he asks idly, flicking at the thin metal tags.

“Not a chance,” Keith informs him. “You gave these to me, and they’re the most important thing you’ve ever given me. They’re mine now and I’m never giving them up.”

“Really?” Shiro asks, tone skeptical. “I thought I asked you to keep them safe for me while I was gone. That’s not what I’d call giving them to you.” Not that he would ever try to take them back anyway, not if they mean so much to Keith.

Keith shakes his head. “Nope. Don’t you remember what you said? If I remember correctly, and I’m one hundred percent sure I do, your actual words were, ‘Keep these for me, and think of me when you wear them. That way in case something happens out there, I know you’ll never forget me.’ As if I could ever have forgotten you in this or any other lifetime.” He melts into Shiro’s arms, their chests pressed together. “I should have known then that you loved me.”

“I’m not sure how you didn’t,” Shiro admits, his smile quirking ruefully. “You were the only one who hadn’t figured it out.”

“Too scared to hope, I guess.” He settles closer into Shiro’s lap, finger idly stroking the back of Shiro’s neck. “I loved you, but you were so much older, and wiser. I never thought you could think of me as anything other than a pest. Or a little brother, at best. I ignored all the signs that you felt the same way because I didn’t believe it was possible.”

Shiro’s hand finds Keith's hip and his thumb rubs circles against the soft lace under it. “Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Up to that point, anyway.” He leans forward the breath of space it takes to slide his mouth against Keith’s, their lips pressed together softly. Their earlier arousal is almost forgotten, though Shiro is still keenly aware of the feel of Keith pressed against him, and the lace rubbing against his thighs. He puts his libido on hold for the time being; this moment, their intimacy, is more important than sex. 

They fall silent for a few moments, lost in tender, languorous kisses. Shiro’s arm wraps around Keith’s waist and Keith’s drape over his shoulders as they take their time with each other, exploring the same depths they’ve each explored a hundred times, but which still seem new and uncharted every time they touch.

“I love you, Shiro,” Keith breathes as they separate, chests heaving lightly from breathlessness. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

“Do you love me enough to eat that cake?” Shiro teases, and Keith shudders.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Shiro laughs and buries his face in Keith’s neck, pressing kisses into the curve of his throat. “I love you too, Keith. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Keith perks up. “That reminds me. You still haven’t unwrapped your present.” He grins slyly, and Shiro is delighted at Keith’s playfulness. It’s a side that typically only he gets to see, and he’s endlessly grateful for it.

When he flips Keith onto his back, the metal glinting against his chest from the light of the lamp on their nightstand catches Shiro’s attention. He’s reminded of Keith’s words, and he vows to get Keith something to replace the dog tags, something that will mean even more to him. He rubs his thumb over his grandfather’s ring, and smiles as he leans in to skim his lips over Keith’s stomach.

After everything they’ve been through, he knows they’re not promised forever. But Shiro intends to promise every minute of the life he has left to the man who’s made it worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate ending to this story, where the "sugar" wasn't a laxative, included Keith joking that Shiro could use the cake as lube. There were a lot of gross references to what the cake resembled, and Keith laughing at Shiro for being willing to eat certain things but not the cake. Then I realized I couldn't do full smut so I should keep it tame enough to rate it as teen (although the panty kink wouldn't get out of my brain, WTF), and the gross references got cut. I'm sharing that bit to say, welcome to my brain. LOL
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/) if you want to flail about entirely-too-pretty gay space boys!
> 
> (Also, for anyone whose thought process went straight to, "Hunk, you asshole!", he did not deliberately sabotage Shiro's cake. He just grabbed the wrong container when he was looking for sugar. ;) )


End file.
